


The Mandalorian - The Gunslinger

by Ghosthiro62



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Action Dueling, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bounty Hunters, Brawl in the cantina, Desert, Gunslinging, The Force, The Helmet Stays On
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22698463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghosthiro62/pseuds/Ghosthiro62
Summary: The Mandalorian makes a pit stop in a hamlet in the middle of the desert on Tatooine
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

A lonely lizard watched as a caravan of camel-like beasts, laden with trade goods, slowly crossed the sands as it has done for thousands of years. Yet, thousands of years ago the desert was not there. The legends told by the nomads talk about an ancient mighty empire with busy towns surrounded by green fields that was now buried under the centuries of sand. Now dunes roll like the waves in the sea. The planet's axis has tilted ever so slightly and ever so slowly the climate changed. The life giving liquid had become scarce and the sands have returned in force slowly covering all traces of men’s presence on the planet. Now only the black vulture creatures were circling in the sky, soaring on the warm currents above the endless sand dunes encroaching on what was left of a little hamlet of Espa. Like other towns before it, this place was going to be swallowed by the sands. 

The settlement was small - about thirty dilapidated houses, and a couple of two-story buildings. One was used as a cantina, and the second was the headman's house and in the center of it all - a water tower. Necessary minimum in order to at least somehow exist in the middle of the hottest point of the Dune Sea.  
The speeder stopped at the edge of town and the rider got off. He was a tall man, clothed in steel armor, his face unreadable behind his Mandalorian helmet, drifting from place to place, always running from the long hand of the Imperials who chased after him and his precious cargo. Sand crunched under his leather boots with a heavy sole as he walked slowly towards a group of local men loitering in front of the cantina. “The welcoming committee.” Their faces soured as he approached the cantina.

“What do you want, stranger?” A tall human with many scars crossing his face stared Mandalorian directly in the face. The man was missing his front teeth lost in a drunken brawl a few days ago. His breath smelled of alcohol which would explain his confidence in his own superiority. After all there were three of them and only one stranger. “I am the law around here and I say that you are not welcomed.” The man offered a crooked smile and spat “So, get on your bike and leave.” With these words, the ugly human opened up his torn leather jacket and put his hand on a butt of his heavy blaster.   
“I do not mean anyone any disrespect,” said the Mandalorian, his face unreadable behind his helmet visor. “Just want to top off my supply bags and be on my way.”  
“Who is this ugly little green creature?” The human would not stop. He was clearly spoiling for a fight. Mando noticed that Baby Yoda woke up from his long nap and was listening intently.  
Another local in shabby armor and scraggly beard joined in “I know who you are! You are that fugitive Mandalorian who stole from the Guild. Why don't you run along before you get hurt?” The man pulled out his blaster and pointed it at the Baby.  
Mando’s reaction was quick. “You, double-crossing piece of Bantha dung!” Mando’s hand slid towards his trusty NN-14 Heavy Duty. However, as he was about to pull his weapon out of its holster, he noticed that some invisible force lifted the tall man off the ground. There he was in midair, dangling his feet and trying to say something, but no sound was coming from his mouth. Suddenly, the man gulped and started choking. Soon he was rolling on the ground with his hands helplessly scraping the ground. Mercifully, the man stopped thrashing around and was still. He was dead. Mando has seen this before. He looked at Baby who stretched out his little hand in all too familiar Force-choking motion. They called it the Vader’s touch.   
“Any other takers? I didn’t think so,” Mando concluded cheerfully. It took a minute for the men to realize that their friend is dead. They stared in horror at the cute little long-eared creature that just killed one of them. “Sorcery! It’s a demon. He is going to take our souls!” The men ran in panic.  
“Time for lunch,” Mando thought as he walked towards the cantina holding cooing Baby Yoda in his arms


	2. Chapter 2

The afternoon sunlight poured in over the swinging doors at the cantina's entrance. Someone had tacked a picture of a woman in red feathers to the wall. Even towns like this one had a saloon or two. A man could depend upon it, the way he could depend on little else. It wasn't yet noon, and half the tables were occupied. The air was thick with the smoke from the cigars the bartender sold,   
At the tables one could see tired, bearded faces. Two languid dancers moved to electro-pop sounds coming from the speakers but no one paid attention to them. 

“I am talking to you!"

Din lifted his eyes to the dingy glass behind the bar. He saw the man behind him. Young, wiry and edgy. Shabby, used armor - a beginner bounty hunter. Din merely sighed. He knew the type too well. The kind that went out of his way looking for trouble. The kind that didn't know that if you hung around long enough it found you, anyway.

"Yeah?"  
"I am talking to you!"  
"So?"  
"I'm Calican, Toro Calican. You are coming with me, warm or cold." He wiped his palms on his thighs. 

The way he said it, Din was sure the kid expected the name to be recognized... He decided the whiskey wasn't good enough for a third drink. He dropped some money on the bar, making sure his hands were well clear of his blasters.

"I'm talking to you, Mandalorian." Calican threw his bounty fob on the table and let his hand hover over the butt of his blaster. A mean-looking scar ran across the back of his hand from his index finger to his wrist. He wore his holster high, a single rig with the leather worn smooth at the buckle. It paid to notice details.

Easy, moving no more than was necessary, Din met his eyes. "Something you want to say?"

"You got a reputation for being fast."

Din turned fully. As he moved, the swinging door flew back. At least one of the cantina's customers had decided to move to safer ground. The kid was packing a NN-14, its black grip well tended. Din didn't doubt there were notches in it. Toro Calican looked like the type who would take pride in killing.

"You heard right."

Calican's fingers curled and uncurled. Two men playing poker in the corner let their hands lie to watch and made a companionable bet on the higher-stakes game in front of them. "I'm faster. Faster than you."

Din glanced around the cantina, then back into Calican's dark, edgy eyes. "Congratulations." He would have walked away, but Calican shifted to block him. The move had Din narrowing his eyes. The look came into them, the hard, flat look that made a smart man give way. "Cut your teeth on somebody else.” 

"You are coming with me."

Patience wasn't Din's best suit, but he wasn't in the mood to waste time on a blasterman looking to sharpen his reputation. "You want to die?"  
Din watched the grin spread over Calican's face.  
He didn't think he was going to die, Din thought wearily.  
His kind never did.

"Why don't you come find me in about five years?" Din told him. "I'll be happy to put a shot in you."  
"I found you now. 

For some-for many-no other reason was needed to draw and fire. "Make it easy on both of us." Din started for the doors again. "Just tell them you killed me."

"I hear your mother was a whore." Toro Calican grinned when Din stopped and turned again.

Din was used to rage. It could fill a man from stomach to brain and take over. When he felt it rising up, he clamped down on it. If he was going to fight - and it seemed inevitable - he preferred to fight cold.

Calican grinned again, then went for his blaster. Din saw the move, not in Calican's hands but in his eyes. Cold and fast and without regret, Din drew his own. There were those who saw him who said it was like lightning and thunder. There was a flash of steel, then the flash of the blast . He hardly moved from where he stood, shooting from the hip, trusting instinct and experience. In a smooth, almost careless movement, he replaced his blaster in its holster. Toro Calican was sprawled on the barroom floor.

Din passed through the swinging doors and walked to his speeder. He didn't know whether he'd killed his man or not, and he didn't care. The whole damn mess had ruined his appetite.


End file.
